Making You See

"I've done something. Something terrible," she whispered in a blind panic.

Tears were rapidly bubbling in her innocent, blue eyes. She was scared, that much was obvious by the way her hands were shaking so uncontrollably. The confidence everyone saw on a daily basis was no where to be seen. She sat on the very edge of her arm chair, as if she was getting ready to run away any second.

He watched her push her hands against each other, trying to force the frustration and panic out of her body through causing pain. The way she had seen people do it millions and millions of times before. It seemed to help most people, but for her, anger and frustration just built up more and more, until it was too much. She wanted to tell someone, but something was stopping her, holding her back, refusing to let the words escape her mouth. She was scared.

He grabbed her thin wrists, noticing the pain she was causing herself. Her wrists felt like they would snap any second, they were so thin and weak, just like the rest of her. She seemed to be starving herself, possibly from the weight of guilt she was carrying on her delicate shoulders. She needed to stop with the nervous action before she damaged herself even more.

Reluctantly, she let him pull her arms away from each other. He was crouched on the floor next to the cushioned arm chair, balancing carefully so that he didn't fall over.

The panic and fear began to build up more inside of her. His grip on her wrists, trying to prevent her from being able to hurt herself, aggravated her as each second passed. She needed to be able to force the emotions she was feeling out of her. She used all her force to pull her arms back into her body. The strength of the shrink overpowered her own and she gave in, feeling weak. She allowed him to keep her hands from injuring herself. She was aware that he'd let go soon and she could go back to her nervous habits.

"What have you done?" The shrink asked, breaking the silence, intrigued by her panic.

"I.." She trailed off staring at his concerned face.

He fidgeted, trying to get comfortable, still crouched on the floor. Her gaze didn't move. She didn't even blink. It was as if she wasn't even looking at him, she was looking through him, like he didn't exist or wasn't really there. Her eyes were glazed over like marbles. Snippets of memories, things she did and things she didn't remember before, flashed through her mind all at once, blurring into one another.

He took a deep breath, "Lucy?"

She jumped, snapping back to reality, away from her scarring memories, "What?" She seemed oblivious to what she was saying before.

"You said you'd done something terrible.." He tried to jog her memories. He gently let go of her wrists, feeling she was calm enough to control her own actions. He didn't move from the floor by her chair, just in case she started hurting herself again. Her safety was in his hands, literally, since he was her shrink. He was meant to improve things, not make her more stressed, this session seemed to be doing the opposite.

He watched her skinny body rock back and forth, a nervous habit, along with what she did with her hands a few minutes before, he had seen all too often. Her breathing deepened, giving the impression to him that she was angry. She was more than angry. Not at the shrink, at herself. She showed weakness. She started to let him into her life and fears more than she should have. She let her defenses down for too long. She was showing too many emotions and it angered her. Showing emotion was showing weakness. Weakness is vulnerability, something that should never be shown. Under no circumstances. She lived her life never forgetting this for ten years, since she was eight, now was certainly no time to stop.

For a quick second her eyes glimmered a deep, blood red. The type of red you would cover your face and clothes in for Halloween. Evil red. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, leaving no trace in her eyes. He didn't mention it. Mentioning it would be foolish. She'd think he was crazy, putting up her defences again. Closing up, more than she already had. He needed her to open up to him more than anything, she was going to tell him something interesting. Something that may be crucial to figuring her out.

She was aware that it was just his job to listen to everyone's depressing lives. He had no choice if he wanted to get paid. Like all shrinks, he was almost definitely in it for the huge sum of money he got at the end of each month. He didn't care about her, no one did. She knew that as clear as anything. He wants information. Something to be able to talk about to his friends, something to laugh about or make fun of when the session is over. The counselling sessions probably made him feel better about his life day-by-day. He acted like he was perfect. She despised him for this.

Slowly, she stopped rocking back and forth. Her body relaxed and her eyes lightened up, changing back to the innocent blue eyes she had before she got herself so worked up and angry.

She shivered uncontrollably. It was summer. Thirty five degrees outside and even warmer inside. The dark room's windows were open, letting the cooler air flow in and enable some of the heat to escape. It was warm. Too warm. Both Lucy nor the shrink couldn't understand why she was shivering so much.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He pressed for information, coming across to the girl as nosy.

She shook her head dismissively, regretting the words she had said earlier. He was poking his nose in where it didn't belong.

"You can talk to me, you should know that by now Lucy," he encouraged, trying to regain her trust. She had been coming to see him for years, always holding some things back for so long, but eventually she'd always tell him. She knew he was someone she could trust, but she often forgot it.

She didn't talk, she just shook her head and gently closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked like she was going to cry. She was scared and full of regret. There was no way she could tell him. The tears never escaped her eyes, they threatened to, but they never did.

"Lucy, I have-" he stopped himself, realising the mistake in what he was saying, "Had a son. He would be eighteen, just like you. I may not be a teenager myself, I may not be going through the same things as you, but I like to think I helped my son, maybe not enough. Maybe things would be different if..if I'd helped him more. Anyway, I'm here to help, I won't judge you or get you in trouble. You can trust me."

A voice flickered through her confused mind. It warned her that he was lying, he was going to judge her and get her in trouble. He probably never did have a son.

She smiled weakly, "Tell me about your son."

She was testing him and delaying. The session had fifteen minutes left, according to the big Grandfather's clock standing proudly behind him. If she could get him talking about this son of his for long enough, the session would be over and she could slip away and get on with life for another week. She just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"He turned eighteen five months ago, a few months before you. March fifteenth," he paused as images of his son as he was growing up flickered through his head. The smile he always had, his attitude, his likes, his dislikes, everything.

"What did he look like?" Lucy didn't really care too much, she was barely listening, she was too busy staring at the clock, watching it tick by at a snails space. She began to believe the well known saying 'time flies when you're having fun.' Time wasn't flying and she wasn't having fun.

"He had sort of long hair that fell over his eyes occasionally. He'd be constantly flicking it out the way, under the impression that it was cool. His hair was light brown and looked blonde and ginger in some lights, which he hated, but no one really teased him about it. His eyes were brown. He always seemed so happy, surrounded by his friends and various girls. He loved his life, getting good grades, had a job, friends, family..." He trailed off, feeling like tears were going to appear in his eyes at the memories of his one and only son. The son he adored.

The description he gave Lucy about his son sounded familiar, she seemed to know him, but he never used his name. It was like it was too painful for him to use his sons name, like every time he said the same, it left as if someone stabbed him in the heart.

"You keep saying 'had' and 'was', why?" She asked inconsiderately, not realising how hurt he was by talking about him.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, trying to reply. His words were stuck. Telling someone was like facing the awful reality of it.

"My son died, no, was murdered not so long ago."

She gasped in shock. He was sounding more and more alike someone she knew. Surely it couldn't be, there was no way. It was completely impossible.

Everything was switched around. The shrink was looking like he was going to cry and talking about his life and she was doing the asking. He could have still been making it up so that he trusted her. He may have thought that if he openly spoke to her, she would openly speak to him. He might have been lying still. There was one last way to figure out if he was.

"What was his name?" She questioned, her eyes were burning into his, trying to work out whether he was bluffing or being honest to her like he expected her to be.

"Jon. Jon Rivers."

Just the words reached her ears, the cheap, old fashioned phone on the coffee table sounded like it was about to explode, signaling the end of the therapy session. The fifteen minutes they had left sped by promptly. She almost cheered in relief, stopping herself so that she didn't sound rude, knowing this was her only moment to escape. Until next week.

She grabbed her bags as quickly as possible and mumbled her thank yous and goodbyes, far too eager to leave the room. It was normal for her to want to leave right on time by the end of the hour, but this time she seemed suspiciously overly eager to leave, she practically ran out of the building. The shrink figured she had some other place to be, somewhere better he assumed. He tried pulling himself together before his next session, talking about his son was hard for him, but he knew it was only fair for him to be honest if he expected Lucy to be completely honest to him.

Her reaction when he mentioned his son's name kept replaying through his mind. He couldn't shake it away or work out why it was so significant to him.